


Silence

by chess_and_politics



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: Freddy is trans and we love that for him, M/M, Okay it has no bearing on the plot rlly but, and writing soft emotional Kings is lowkey my fave, i wrote this to avoid working on a different fic, svetlana & Florence? Not just gals being pals, walter & molokov? def having a secret lil relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_and_politics/pseuds/chess_and_politics
Summary: Chess, when it comes down to it, is a game of silence. For the utmost clarity of the mind, a pair seated across the board hardly say a word to each other.Even with no board between them, Freddy & Anatoly manage to play a kind of chess.
Relationships: Anatoly Sergievsky/Frederick Trumper
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Silence

Chess, when it comes down to it, is a game of silence. For the utmost clarity of the mind, a pair seated across the board hardly say a word to each other.

They were playing a different game in the silence. Scarcely a word to the other in public. They understood each other well enough to avoid that. It was hard to arouse suspicion when there was no more great rivalry. To the world at large, it seemed as though the two men had simply... forgotten about each other.

The hours they spent together in private were a definite counter to that image. Everything had begun in Bangkok, after Freddy had convinced him to win. There was something.... off about the other man, enough for Anatoly to _understand_. Enough to warner an invitation back to his hotel room.

(Florence was never there. At least, never when he was. He hoped this time would hold true to that.)

Freddy was confused and belligerent, but accepted nonetheless. Anatoly knew he would. He also knew that Freddy wouldn’t say no when he drew him into a kiss after the door was shut tightly. Neither of them would say anything for a long time, until clothes started coming off. 

Anatoly was working on unbuttoning the other man’s shirt as he sucked on his neck. Between shallow breaths, Freddy said, “I’m not... what you’re gonna expect, Sergievsky...”

Anatoly let his head rest on Freddy’s shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have a dick,” Freddy said. His grip on Anatoly shifted, like he was preparing to push him off. “Just letting you know before you get my boxers off and lose interest.”

“Freddy.” Anatoly straightened his back and raised a hand to his cheek, cupping it gently. “It doesn’t deter me in the slightest. But this is what you want from me?”

(He was confused, yes. But he wasn’t going to let that get in the way _this_.)

He hesitated. “I mean, yeah.” After a moment, his grip relaxed. “I think we’re both better when we don’t talk. Just—“

He found himself guided into another kiss, soon melting into a continuation of their activities. The last cohesive sentence from the pair was Freddy’s slightly bitter, “Of _course_ you have condoms,” before Anatoly got him to shut up.

It was instinctual for Freddy, in the silence following, to slip out of bed and redress without a word. Anatoly chose not to break the silence either, electing to watch him slip his white suit on, comb a hand through his hair, and leave without acknowledgement.

(Was his hair always that short? He could’ve sworn it was longer and curlier the previous year.)

He would’ve been hurt by the sudden and silent exit, but it was what he expected. Freddy didn’t seem like the type to stay for cuddling. Or maybe their mutual sexual attraction hadn’t changed his public stance on Russians. Perhaps his expectations of the American weren’t as accurate as he would like.

It became a recurring pattern between them, each playing this silent game with the same strategies. They spotted each other at games. Somehow, they could shake attention long enough to take things to Freddy’s room, and they’d spend a few hours engrossed in this new endeavor.

(It was always Freddy’s room— better an American wiretap than a Soviet one. There was never anything spoken, anyways.)

Freddy always initiated the redressing, post encounter. Anatoly always felt a twinge of disappointment watching the other man sit up and reach for his pants. But he’d follow suit, carefully freshening up and leaving as inconspicuously as possible.

It was great sex. Divorce and disgrace was a bitter fate he faced, with no wife to comfort him at the end of a day or a competition. Freddy certainly allowed him stress relief and some limited physical touch.

But he missed _more_. He missed sinking into bed next to someone and wrapping his arms around them. He missed having someone on his side. He wanted the connection, too, not just the sex. As much trouble as love had given him, he wanted it back, and he found himself wishing Freddy capable of wanting it too. They had so much in common, far more than he had found with Svetlana and Florence. He wanted someone to love, and despite their silence, Freddy became that someone.

It was in Baguio, three years after they began this little fling, that Anatoly broke their silence. He was Viigand’s second, still subjected to the effects of his defection. Freddy wasn’t playing either, back in the circuit of Global Television.

Freddy’s room was always nice, always private. At least Walter had the decency to cede them some space. It allowed Freddy more personality, and let Anatoly see more of him. Anatoly had once gotten a glance at the inside of Freddy’s suitcase, when the man had gone to grab a fresh pair of boxers. All the clothing inside was just as white as the suits he wore on TV. Entering the bathroom to freshen up allowed him a glance at what Freddy kept on his counter. It wasn’t much, but Anatoly was still puzzling over the roll of bandages sitting on the counter. The room always smelled like coffee.

(Freddy did too, but Anatoly always recognized various alcohols as they kissed. Coffee, a certain cologne, and a hint of alcohol made up a scent that was soon able to relax Anatoly on its own.)

They had just enjoyed, in Anatoly’s opinion, an especially great round of sex. In a minute or so, he knew Freddy would begin redressing and preparing to watch the Russian make a quiet exit. Anatoly allowed his head to fall on the pillow so that it just brushed Freddy’s hair. He enjoyed being close to the other man, even for just a moment. When Freddy sat up, Anatoly felt himself reach out and grab Freddy’s arm.

“Why do you end it so fast?” He asked quietly.

Freddy, shocked out of their normal routine, took a moment to respond. “I... it’s just sex, Anatoly.”

He sat up, letting go of Freddy’s arm. “Just sex? For three years, just sex?”

“We don’t work well when we talk,” he said dismissively. “And I can only stand silence for so long.”

“Sleep with me, just one night,” Anatoly said.

Freddy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna be another failed romance of yours,” he said. “That’s why we’re not doing romance. Can’t fail if we don’t try.”

“But that implies we could try,” Anatoly pressed. “You have interest.”

“Of course I have interest, dipshit, I don’t waste time with people I’m not interested in.”

Anatoly blinked. “Even for just sex?”

Freddy snorted. “Anatoly, no offense, but with your track record I wouldn’t go anywhere romance if I had actual interest. Sex is a good alternative.”

“What is it they say? The third time is charming?”

“Is a charm,” he corrected. “And no, not with me. Use your third time with someone that isn’t a guaranteed fuck up.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather it be with. I’d rather try and fail than wonder if we could’ve had something.” Anatoly let go of his arm. “Let me stay, for one night.”

Freddy stared at him for a moment, then stood and began picking up clothes. Anatoly sighed softly and was about to get up when a pair of boxers hit him in the head. “I’m not cuddling naked,” Freddy said. “Put those on.”

He smiled and grabbed them from where they had fallen. By the time he had slipped them on, Freddy had returned to the bed in underwear and a plain white t-shirt. Anatoly shifted closer and curled an arm around him. “Why so stiff?” He murmured.

“I don’t know how this works,” he said hesitantly.

Anatoly smiled and pressed a light kiss to his neck. “It’s nothing grand. Just something like this.” He continued lightly kissing the underside of Freddy’s jaw. He felt Freddy shiver and relax against him. The silence resumed as they drifted off to sleep.

(It was the first time in a long time that he’d held someone like this. Anatoly may have fought off sleep for a little longer to enjoy the cuddling. Just maybe.)

He awoke alone, with only the faintest trace of Freddy’s previous presence. The shower was running. He sighed and got out of bed, searching the floor for his clothing—

“Ah, he let you stay the night,” Walter said, casually stirring a cup of coffee.

It took Anatoly a moment to even process Walter’s presence. Then he hurriedly stood up, shirt bunched up in his hand.

Walter laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “Cut the embarrassment. We both know I keep a careful eye on Freddy. He can’t sneak anything – or anyone – past me.”

“Yes, I, ah… assumed so. We’re both kept on short leashes.” He hesitantly shrugged his shirt back on.

“They don’t want you running off again,” Walter said. “What a scandal that would be. Three time defector, this time for his opponent.”

Anatoly picked his pants up. “I am not considering defecting again.”

“Sure you aren’t,” Walter said. “But you’re not all that fond of long distance, are you? Given your track record.” He laughed again at Anatoly’s glare. “I have to monitor Freddy. Have to review any and every conversation he has. It wouldn’t be hard for me to get you papers, if you want to run away again.”

“I don’t want to run away,” he said, voice heavy and weary. “I don’t know what I want.” He sat down on the bed with a sigh and began tugging his socks on.

“Three years of your little affair would suggest you want Freddy, but who am I to talk?” He suggested, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just the man who has to listen to your numerous little dates.”

“All we’ve done is sleep together. I wouldn’t leave just for that.” _Not again._

“Well, I can't make you do anything,” Walter said. “But I think you’d rather be in America when the USSR kicks the bucket.” He gave Anatoly a wink. “You’ve got time. Think about it. I’m not hard to find.”

Before Anatoly could come up with any coherent response, he was gone. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Seeing no sign of Freddy leaving the bathroom anytime soon, he slid his shoes on and headed for the door.

(He was already going to get hell for being out all night. Staying any longer would only make it worse for him.)

“You’re going?” Freddy asked, scaring the hell out of Anatoly. 

He spun around and looked at the American. “I— I should return to my room. They will already be unhappy I’ve spent the night away.”

“Ah. What’re you gonna tell them?”

He shrugged. “For all I’m aware, they know. They’ll assume I’m sleeping with _someone_ , at least.”

Freddy nodded. “So will I be seeing you again while we’re here?”

“If I get a chance. I doubt I’d be able to spend the night.”

To his surprise, Freddy looked… disappointed? “Oh,” he said quietly. “Nothing we aren’t used to.” 

Anatoly nodded. “Yes… I should be going now. Goodbye.” He hesitated for a moment, then gently kissed Freddy. Then he left, leaving Freddy to think about the growing number of feelings he had someone fallen into.

(Anatoly had quite a lot to consider as well. Would he leave, if Freddy wanted him? Could he risk uprooting his life again?)

They did manage another rendezvous during the championship, in between press conferences and chess games and training and all the fuss and chatter of the event. Anatoly had made a decision, but he also knew that he wanted Freddy’s say in it. If he even knew what Anatoly had been offered.

He found a place to ask it, tucked between worn-out kisses and steady breaths. Anatoly kissed him tenderly, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Do you want me to come to America?” He asked, lips still tantalizingly close to Freddy’s.

Freddy blinked. “I, uh, fuck, Anatoly, I don’t know!” He let out a sharp breath. “I don’t want to be another impulsive decision.”

“If this were impulsive, I would’ve left with you in Bangkok.” He traced a hand up Freddy’s side. “It’s been three years, Freddy. At this rate we’ll out-last my marriage.”

“I don’t want you coming just for me. Last time you left for someone, you didn’t stay.”

“Well, the USSR may not be quite so infallible. I’d like to get out for that reason as well… I’m sure the U.S. has opportunity.” He sighed. “Though, moving any of my family out will become impossible… I’d want my children out too. And my ex-wife.”

Freddy snorted. “Jesus, you’re behind. Even I know Walter got them out last month.” He paused. “Though they probably kept that a secret from you for a reason, huh.”

He blinked. “What?? Why was Walter helping them, why did they want to—“

“Because of Florence,” Freddy said, a hint of a sneer in his voice. “Went to Hungary to get away from chess and try to find herself, and managed to find her way into talking to your ex-wife. Somehow friends now, or some bullshit like that. Now they’re all in America, free as fuck.”

“Oh….” he let his forehead rest against Freddy’s temple. “...then I’m going. There’s not much left to lose, and I’ll be free.”

“You’re obsessed with freedom, you know that?” Freddy asked with a snort. “But I guess I can’t complain. Won’t have to travel overseas just to get some dick.”

Anatoly rolled his eyes. “Just however far it is between our homes.” He pecked Freddy’s cheek. “Perhaps for more than sex, too. Unless you don’t want to try romance.”

“We can try that,” Freddy said casually. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe you could stay with me, until you get a place of your own.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Freddy blushed. “Don’t give me that. I’m trying to be nice. Don’t ruin it.”

He smiled and nuzzled into his neck. “I won’t. I guess I’d let Walter know, but he’ll hear this anyway.”

Freddy nodded. “Yeah… we aren’t like, cozy cutesy boyfriends just because we’re trying romance. We’ll just be two men that sleep together trying to figure out if there’s more to this.”

“Of course,” Anatoly said. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
